Beijing staged an unmistakable show of strength this week: a massed military parade marking 80 years since the end of the war against Japan, with Xi Jinping presiding and a roster of heavyweight guests, Vladimir Putin and Kim Jong Un among them. In the official tribune, two former Romanian prime ministers, Adrian Năstase and Viorica Dăncilă, were also present. Their appearance triggered instant outrage in parts of the Romanian press, which rushed to frame the moment as shame by association. China’s embassy in Romania countered with a public note of thanks, praising the pair for attending an event it cast as a commemoration of antifascist victory and a tribute to historical memory.

Photo of Nastase and Dancila, the two former Romanian Prime Ministers shaking hands with Xi Jinping – photo posted by the Chinese Embassy in Romania, on facebook

The response of the Romanian press (and some members of the Government)  is a huge dent on Romania’s diplomacy. The facts are simple: this was a major state occasion, in the capital of the world’s second-largest economy, attended by dozens of foreign leaders and dignitaries. We can tut from the sidelines, or we can ask what it means for Romania to be seen in the places where global power is actually congregating. The event and attendance were reported by multiple outlets, including The Independent, The Moscow Times, Spotmedia and Romanian press.

Strip away the noise and the strategic logic is obvious: China is not an enemy of Romania or Europe for that matter. Europe trades more with China than with any single country outside the EU. Advanced manufacturing in Germany, Italy- and yes, Romania’s own supply chains – depend on Chinese inputs and, increasingly, on Chinese demand. In technology, energy hardware, rare-earths processing, EVs and grid equipment, Beijing sets prices and standards. To argue that Romanian public life should boycott China because other controversial leaders stood on the same platform is to confuse moral posturing with statecraft. Countries that will matter ten years from now are the ones capable of keeping two ideas in their head at once: defend European values at home and in Brussels, while pursuing disciplined, eyes-open engagement with the Indo-Pacific power that will shape costs, markets and rules.

History counsels pragmatism. When Romania broke with Moscow’s line in 1968 by condemning the invasion of Czechoslovakia, it survived not because Bucharest shouted the loudest, but because it read the balance correctly and cultivated external guarantees. Many Romanian diplomats and historians have long argued that signals from Beijing and Washington helped raise the cost of any move against Romania, buying space for an independent posture within the bloc. The larger lesson is that small and midsize countries endure by widening their options, not by narrowing them.

This is why the outrage over Năstase and Dăncilă’s presence misses the point. Former prime ministers do not conduct policy, but they do signal networks. Their being photographed on the main stage in Beijing says less about personal ideology than about whether Romania is still capable of showing up where influence pools. If Bucharest’s default instinct is to moralize while other capitals methodically build ties, then the “strategic autonomy” the new Romanian President likes to invoke will remain a phrase rather than a plan. Romania’s interest is to be audible in both rooms: the EU room that writes regulations, and the Eurasian room that is increasingly writing cheques.

Now, to give a voice to the already loud, dumb and proud Romanian far left, China’s internal repression or its coercive practices abroad cannot be overlooked. But the presence of two former Romanian PMs don’t excuse it, as engagement is not endorsement. Engagement is recognition that geopolitics is made by attendance. It is also a reminder that the world does not end at Brussels. A confident Romania can defend the transatlantic link, deepen its EU core commitments and still cultivate the economic and diplomatic channels that keep it resilient in a harsher, more transactional order. The choice is not between purity and pragmatism. The choice is between irrelevance cloaked in rhetoric and relevance earned by doing the hard, sometimes uncomfortable work of being present.

Năstase sought to defuse the controversy by stressing that he traveled as a private citizen and former officeholder, not as an emissary of the current government. He argued, pointedly, that the ceremony took place in Beijing, not Moscow, and that it is beyond his remit to control whom Xi Jinping invites – no more than he could control whom President Trump receives in Alaska.

Standing policy in Bucharest nevertheless diverged: Romania’s foreign ministry said an official invitation had been received, but no serving minister attended. Foreign Minister Oana Țoiu condemned the optics, insisting Romania “cannot be represented” by politicians proud to pose alongside Putin, especially with Russia striking targets perilously close to the Romanian border in recent weeks.

The tableau in Beijing: Putin and Kim flanking Xi in front, 26 foreign leaders in attendance, with Slovakia’s Robert Fico and Serbia’s Aleksandar Vučić among Europe’s contingent- was designed to telegraph a post-American ordering, or at least a bloc comfortable performing one. For Beijing, these commemorations are not only about past wars, they are auditions for a world where China curates memory, sets tone, and organizes guests. For Moscow, the image shores up stature, for Pyongyang, it signals relevance. And for smaller European states, whether present or absent, the photos become proxies for choices…some strategic, some merely performative.

Back in Romania, the reactions reveal a deeper argument about agency and alignment. The variance across the region owes less to Beijing’s playbook than to the willingness of local elites to embrace or resist it. In that light, the presence of two ex-prime ministers in Beijing reads less as a diplomatic earthquake than as a domestic Rorschach test: to critics, it is validation-seeking among authoritarians and a hedge against EU pressure on rule-of-law and corruption. To defenders, it is pragmatic engagement with the world’s second-largest economy at a moment when Europe cannot afford strategic myopia.

Năstase’s schedule underscored that duality. Before the parade, he met Sun Haiyan, a senior official in the Communist Party’s international department, who publicly lauded his long-standing contributions to China-Romania ties. Chinese readouts cast the conversation in the language of “a more just and reasonable” global governance and applauded Xi’s signature international initiatives. Năstase, for his part, praised China’s development achievements and the country’s wartime sacrifices, while noting he had discussed “sensitive” topics including the war in Ukraine and the triangle among China, Russia, and India. None of this makes him a policy-maker. It does make him a node in the networks Beijing cultivates precisely because they provoke arguments like the one Romania is now having.

What should Bucharest take from this episode? Mainly, that symbolic politics matter. In 2025, a photograph can obscure a country’s formal stance as effectively as it can illuminate it. Romania is a NATO member, an EU state, and a front-line stakeholder in European security; it also sits in supply chains that run through Shenzhen, not just Stuttgart. Pretending one identity cancels the other is pure stupidity.

The world does not end at Brussels, neither does it end in a photo op in Beijing. The task is to be audible and principled in both rooms.

By. I Constantin